


Life After the Hunt

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Chronic Pain, DeanCas - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Female Hunters, M/M, Medication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The brothers finally decide to hang up their flannel for good with the girls (Charlie, Alex, Jo) take up the mantel. Castiel is still an angel but he's not at full power, Dean and Sam have admitted they're too tired to carry on as hunters, so where does that leave Team Free Will? Is there still a TFW?





	Life After the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bit o' DeanCas but it isn't the focal point of the story. Trying more to focus on how Sam and Dean are going to cope with not being hunters.

Dean felt his shoulder joint pop as he rolled them back trying to find a comfortable posture. Sam winced when he heard the sound, still stumbling into the room, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light. Dean looked up from his almost empty glass of whiskey, trying to down play how much his body actually hurt. Of all people, it wasn't going to be his little brother that saw him like this. 

“Cas might be able to help you with that.” Sam eyed towards Dean's sore shoulder.

“I'm not letting him waste his grace on a bum shoulder Sammy. I've dealt with worse.” Dean's face twisted into a grimace, betraying whatever bravado he was trying to fake. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Sam slowly shook his head, pouring a much smaller glass of whiskey for himself. “Nightmare.” He left it at a final word. When Sam wanted to talk about something, he had no problem doing so. Dean noticed a small bead of sweat on Sam's forehead. Dean knew all too well what Sam meant when Sam said it like that. There were too many nights that he sat by Sam's bed, just watching, guarding his little brother from things he can't stop. He can't cure Sam. 

“I'm sure Cas could help you with that.” Dean retorted with a smirk.

“Don't think I want the help, yet.”

At least there was a 'yet' in Sam's statement. 

Sitting across from each other at the table in the main room, silence fell over them. Silence bothered Dean, forcing his brain to make him bounce his leg up and down with some unknown nervousness. He raised his glass to his brother, making a clinking sound. “Here's to hanging up the shotguns.”

“and putting down the books on lore.” Sam added to the mock-toast. They both smiled weakly, eyes heavy with dark circles. 

Breaking the silence was a loud crash in the library. “Dear Chuck it better not be another ghost...” Dean grumbled, pushing against the table, his chair sliding back. Standing, he placed a hand on his lower back trying to keep the pain to a minimum. “I'm getting too old for this shit Sammy.” Shaking his head and sighing.

_I thought we were giving this up and now it's in our own g'damn home._

Stumbling himself, Dean had to admit that he had probably drank more than he thought. Rubbing his temples as he approached the door to the library. He heard a low groan when his hand reached the doorknob. Ghosts can make noises but they usually don't sound like human moans of pain. His brain was a little fuzzy but he was still curious as to what it was that just ruined Sammy's favorite place. He pulled an iron laced blade that was sheathed on his ankle. Going in tipsy **and** unarmed was something he was not about to do. 

Walking towards the room, he poked his head in, looking around for what caused the noise. The normally clean and neat room had books strewn all over the floor. Tables over-turned. Papers with spells and curses torn to bits. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger. Those emotions dissipated and turned into worry and sadness. 

“Sam!” Yelling at the top of his voice, running over to the crumpled up brown trench coat on the floor. Scooping up Castiel like he was a baby, disregarding his own physical pains. “C'mon Cas, let's get you into a bed.” He didn't know what else to do.

Sam stormed into the room, surveying the scene that was unfolding around them. “What happened?” Sam looked down at the passed out Castiel being cradled in Dean's arms. He bent down to help his brother pick up Castiel's dead weight. Dean's eyes didn't look tired anymore. He looked like he was on an adrenaline rush, wide and wild. Small green rings, circling black holes. 

“Does it look like I know?” Dean snapped, apologizing in the same breath. Sam didn't deserve to be snapped at. Neither one of them knew what had happened. “Cas never makes rough landings like that.” Sam was on Dean's heels, following them to Dean's bedroom where he laid Castiel on the bed, noticing his eyes were still shut, but for a change, his wings were spread wide and fluttering lightly. It had been years since Dean had seen Castiel's wings; he wasn't much of a show off when it came to them no matter how many times Dean had begged to see them, sometimes out of pure curiosity. He could count on one hand how many times he had seen Castiel spread his wings to their full glory. Now he understood why.

They were tattered like an over worn shirt. Dean could feel his heart sinking to his stomach like he was ready to vomit. Sam and Dean had never seen Castiel look so beaten up that they weren't really sure what to do.

_Do angels need medical care like humans?_  
No that can't be right.

Dean closed his eyes, clasped his hands, and began mumbling something inaudible that Sam couldn't understand even though it was clearly in English, The only other language Dean knew was Latin, and even then it was limited to exorcisms only. Sam sat on the other side of Castiel, looking down at his limp body. “What are you doing Dean?” whispering like he was afraid to speak in a normal tone.

“Praying. That's what brings Cas to us right? When I pray for him? Maybe...” Dean felt a lump in his throat slowly growing. Sam could make out a few words like 'please' and 'need you'. He wanted to comfort his brother but he knew Dean would just push him away and make it even harder to talk about whatever this was. There was a flutter of wings again, with a feather slowly falling down into Dean's lap. Fluttering was good, but seeing a feather fall made his eyes feel warm. His heart was forgetting how to beat and his lungs forgetting how to inhale as he sees another feather falls to the floor of his bedroom. 

Sam watched his brother slowly falling into despair and hopelessness. He wanted to comfort his brother but in this situation, he didn't know how. He wiped his hands on his pajama pants to dry the cold sweat away but it felt pointless. He mimicked his brothers praying motions. Sam had always believed in angels, way before Castiel had even come into their lives and showed them the politics of Heaven and Hell. God and Lucifer. There was always a voice in Sam's head telling him that angels were protecting him when he was younger, before he understood what his father did and the truth of what happened to his mother.

“Castiel, I know I'm not your favorite Winchester but my brother and I” he paused, thinking of what to say next, “really need you here...” Sam started joining Dean in prayer “we need an angel on our side. The rest are kind of mad at us right now.” His voice trailed off into emptiness. 

Dean noticed little slits of blue looking up at him. His muscles started to relax when the angel blinked, bringing the room into focus. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of us Cas!” Dean almost flung himself onto Castiel.

“Sam...” Dean felt slightly offended that 'Sam' was Castiel's first word into consciousness. “you're my second favorite Winchester.” Dean could almost feel the glare from Sam.

“Yeah, but you're my favorite angel, Cas.” Sam retorted without pause. He moved towards the bedroom doorway. “I'm going back to my drink before it gets watered down.” Clearing his throat, he gently closed the door behind him, leaving Castiel splayed out on the bed, with Dean still knelt at the side of the bed. Their 'profound bond' was something that Sam couldn't understand but he could accept it without getting it. He stood outside the door for a second, curious to hear what Dean's first words alone with Castiel would be. He could barely make it out but he knew soft sobbing when he heard it.


End file.
